


Every Bit of Blood

by ScarySkyBooms



Series: Reckless, Disobedient Pup [3]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Discipline, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Non-Sexual, Spanking, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarySkyBooms/pseuds/ScarySkyBooms
Summary: Witches are dangerous. Monroe warned them, but since when does anyone listen to him?
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt/Monroe
Series: Reckless, Disobedient Pup [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867840
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Every Bit of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Witches aren't Wesen. They're just witches. That's all you need to knows.

Hank covered his nose and mouth as he tried to get a better look at what had been cooking in the pot over a campfire. The bottom was nothing more than a pile of ash, the fire probably burning long after their victim's life was extinguished.

"No signs of a struggle. Could have been natural causes. Hank?" Nick glanced up from where he was kneeling by the body, going through the wallet he found in a jacket pocket. "It says she's 22." He looked between the picture and the corpse. "It kind of looks like her."

"Maybe it's her granddaughter's wallet?" Hank said, coming to look over the other's shoulder. "I think I could have kept a straight face if I told her she didn't look a day over 70 but that's because I had four mothers-in-law to practice lying on."

"She isn't exactly dressed like she's that old. Four inch heels?"

"That's what you're going with? Like that's weirder than the Crypt Keeper being barely old enough to drink?" Hank paused to look around. "The fact that we're in the middle of the woods and she's wearing the heels is definitely odd but nowhere near our usual level of weirdness."

"Middle of the what?" Nick glanced up at him, looking amused. "It's a hiking trail and we're barely a hundred yards in." He waved his arm in the direction they had come from. "I can see the entrance from here."

"Hey, just because your boyfriend looks like he lives in the woods, doesn't make you an expert."

"Shut up," Nick told him, rolling his eyes. "Think there might be a phone under her?" 

"Possibly, but if it's a rotary one then you drop the whole Dorian Gray thing. Need a hand rolling her up?" Hank asked.

"I got it." Nick did it with a bit of unease that he hoped he would never lose when handling a victim. "If this was a Dorian Gray situation, it would be backwards."

"Yeah, yeah, joke killer. I see it. Hold her for a second." He took a picture for their notes before grabbing it. Hank hit the home button and the screen lit up, showing off a picture of a pretty young couple, beaming at the camera.

"Well it's the same girl as on the driver's license." Nick stood up, looking over the scene once more. "So either klepto grandma stole this girl's wallet and phone or…"

"It's a Grimm thing," Hank finished for him. "Maybe you should give Monroe a call."

"Yeah, okay." Nick agreed, hating to still need the blutbad's help after all this time but when wesen were concerned, it was usually a matter of time before another body turned up. 

***

Monroe greeted Hank with a head nod and Nick with a shy smile. He wanted very much to reach over and slip his fingers in the back of his hair, pull him closer and kiss him. Bump their heads together and whisper how he's happy to see him even though they've only been apart for a few hours. 

But Nick was working and there was a dead body between them and that would just be so unprofessional.

Still, Nick's face lights up when he sees him and that's almost as good as a kiss.

"I brought sandwiches," Monroe said, feeling lame now that the words were out. This was a possible crime scene, not a picnic. He shifted a shoulder towards the parking lot. "They're in the car."

"The one with the chickpeas and garlic sauce?" 

"Yeah," Monroe said surprised, as he turned to Hank. The man had gone from being skeptical about his cooking in the beginning to almost sounding excited. "I added some avocado this time."

"Man, I wish you had a sister."

"She'd tear you to pieces," Monroe pointed out. "And she would look like me. Why would you wish that on someone?"

"I like the way you look," Nick told him softly as Hank gave an amused snort.

Monroe blushed and ducked his head. "So what's going on?"

"The license says she's 22." All traces of Nick's smile quickly disappearing as he looked at the body. "I was thinking she's a Spinnetod. If she refused to feed on men, that would age her but it doesn't explain what she's doing out here or that pot she had on the fire."

"She doesn't smell wesen," Monroe told them as he dropped to the balls of his feet next to where the fire had been. He gave it a sniff, and wrinkled his nose. "She was trying to cast some kind of spell. Hair and blood obviously, and something metallic."

"Obviously," both detectives nodded, playfully mocking him.

Monroe ignored them and grabbed a twig. "Can l…?" He made a poking motion.

Nick looked over at Hank who shrugged. "Yeah, go for it."

"I can smell barberry and mayflower on her but this is too far gone for my nose. Remember when you tried to make fried rice? Kind of like that, just, you know, without almost burning the house down and making my eyes water for five days." Monroe rambled, ignoring Nick's glare and Hank's laughter. He dragged the stick over the bottom of the pot and when he lifted it back up, a necklace with a ring hanging off it's end was on it. "Yeah, definitely something personal and very angry. Boy, I would not want to be on the other end of this." He looked at the body, confused. "Or is this the other end of this?"

"So, wait, she's like," Hank rolled his eyes up as he searched his memory, "a hexenbiest?"

"I don't think so," Monroe said, sounding unsure as he rose back up. "I think she's just a witch. Roselee can tell you-"

"Wait," Hank interrupted. "Just a witch? Witches are real?"

Monroe gave him a blank stare before turning to Nick. "Do I need to woge again?"

"Please, don't." Hank shivered. "Okay. Fine. Witches are real. Um, you mentioned Roselee?"

This time the look shared by the other two men made Hank's face heat up. 

"She should be able to tell you what kind of spell was being performed if you can get her a list of what was in there," Monroe said, pointing at the pot. "Hair and blood doesn't narrow it down much."

Hank motioned for the coroner to finish up and they made their way to the cars. Monroe handed over the sandwiches and hovered by their car.

"When you find the witch, call me, okay?" Monroe said, only focusing on the younger detective. "I don't want you going in alone."

"Hey!" Hank protested around a mouth full of sourdough bread and vegetables. 

"Sorry," Monroe apologized, looking slightly guilty as he glanced up at him but his voice dropped when he looked back at Nick. "I mean it, call me."

"I'll try," Nick started, but stopped when he saw fear, not anger, flash in the brown eyes. "I'll call you. Don't worry, all right?"

Monroe snorted, slipping a discreet hand over Nick's hip, giving him a squeeze. "Far from it. I don't trust witches. My grandfather used to say that you should never turn your back on a witch."

"There might not even be any other witches involved," Nick reasoned, relaxing into the hand on his side.

"Yeah, maybe. Be safe," he glanced at Hank, "both of you."

"You worry too much," Nick said, wanting to reassure him with a kiss but had to settle for fixing his collar. "It'll be fine."

***

In the end, it was the history on their victim's phone that led them to a small home on the edge of a dead end. There was a simple sign in the front that proclaimed it to house rare and unique remedies. 

"Is it me, or is this place really creepy?" Hank asked, feeling like he should take lead because he was the senior officer but wanting to go in behind Monroe. 

"No," Monroe told him, dread filling him. "This place is like an abandoned asylum built on a sacred burial ground during a blood moon."

"It's just a rickety old house," Nick said, startling them both when he slammed the door of his truck closed. "Come on."

Monroe grabbed Nick's elbow as he walked past and pulled him back. 

"Witches can be very powerful. You need to stay alert no matter how old and frail she looks," Monroe told the detectives. "And I can't stress this enough; don't touch anything."

"Can I help her clean the oven?" Nick asked, obviously amused. 

"Maybe get in it? You know, to reach the parts all the way in the back," Hank chimed in. He might have been freaked out but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to annoy the blutbad. 

"And what are your views on gingerbread walls?"

Monroe glared, and shouldered his way past them. "If she turns you into a cat, you're not getting any of that fancy wet food."

Hank's laughter died as they approached the house. "She can't really do that, right?"

Nick shrugged, hand on his holster. "Monroe, get behind us."

Monroe was going to argue but the intense glare had him sighing and moving out of the way. It was easy to forget the other man was a cop and a grimm and it took moments like this to remind him that while they were both predators, only one of them was known for hunting the other.

The woman inside barely looked younger than the body they had been investigating. She was covered in multiple layers of blouses and sweaters, and it took effort for Hank not to ask Monroe if they shopped at the same place.

An eye patch covered her right eye but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of her gaze. Nick could have sworn it flashed gold as she gave him a once over but her face did not change like a wesen.

"Ma'am, we're investigating the death of Marsha Vance. We believe she came here recently." Nick pulled out the blown up picture they had gotten off the ID. "We were hoping you can tell us what she came to see you about."

The old woman's eye traveled over them and fixed on Monroe as she came from behind the desk, ignoring the paper in Nick's hand. 

"You are not with them," she said.

"He's not with the-" Hank started but was cut off by Monroe.

"I _am_ with them," he said, returning her glare with the same intensity she was putting out.

"You are so full of hunger, blutbad."

"You don't-" Monroe stopped, he had been so focused on her, he didn't see her hold a candy bowl out for the detectives. 

He grabbed Nick's wrist before he could reach inside and smacked the chocolate out of Hank's hand just as he was about to pop it into his mouth. 

"What the hell, man?" Hank glared.

"Don't touch anything includes eating her weird witchy chocolate!" Monroe told him the same time the old witch let out a loud cackle.

Hank stared at the floor, trying to remember why he had such an overwhelming desire for a piece of old, dusty chocolate. Nick was battling his own Proustian moment, still feeling that promised nostalgia the candy had offered.

"We should leave," Monroe said, unsettled by the continuing laughter.

"No," Nick said, pulling his wrist free and holding up the picture again. "You know what we are and we know what you are. The sooner you tell us what we need to know, the sooner we can leave."

"You seem so sure that I want you to leave," she said, her eye once more on Monroe.

"Get your eyes off of him," Nick snapped at her as he instantly moved between them. He could have kicked himself the moment the words were out of his mouth. That had been too open, too honest. 

And the witch had caught it. 

She looked at Nick for an unnerving heartbeat before she glanced at the paper.

"She came here seeking knowledge and guidance."

"Yeah?" Nick raised a brow, putting the picture back in his pocket. "About what?"

"What do the young always seek guidance for?" She said with a wave of her hand and Nick felt the urge to follow her fingers with his eyes. They really did need to get out of there, he knew it, but he wasn't going to go without getting his answers. "A lover who did the unthinkable. A lover who no longer loved her back."

"And what did you give her for that?" Hank asked.

"She came for Dittany of Crete to restore their love," the witch said, a sickening smile stretched across her face. "She left with Jezebel Root."

"What is that?" Nick asked, and when he only got laughter from her, he turned to Monroe.

"I know it's for unfaithful lovers but I'm not sure what it does," Monroe said, pulling out his phone. "I'll call Roselee."

"What else did you give her?" Nick asked.

Monroe had taken a step back and eyes off his grimm for just a moment, barely enough time to scroll through his contacts when he heard a small hiss. He turned just as Nick snatched his hand back from a straw doll.

"'roe?" Nick managed, before he was falling and Monroe had to leap to catch him, snagging him by his leather jacket before his head hit the floor. 

Hank seemed to wake up out of whatever trance he was in a moment later. He pulled his gun out, and aimed it at the witch.

"What did you do to him?" He demanded while Monroe gently shook Nick, trying to wake him.

"You warned him not to touch anything," the witch laughed, smug and seemingly very pleased with herself. "Think he'll learn now?"

"Undo what ever the fuck you did!" Hank emphasised his point with the gun. "Now!"

"Killing me will not bring him back."

"What do you want?" Monroe asked, fully woged, his eyes glowing bright red with anger but his voice full of fear as he clung to Nick. 

"A low price for the love of your life," she told him. "A vile of blood and a lock of your hair."

Monroe took a shaky breath and reverted back to his human self, ignoring the tears that escaped as he looked down at Nick. His eyes were closed but he was still breathing, his heartbeat strong and steady. 

"No," Monroe said softly. "No, you will either take every single drop of blood in my body or choose something else. I will not let you use me."

Monroe could live with it but if she used him to murder, Nick would never forgive himself.

"What makes you think there's anything else I want?" Her face seemed to soften, every bit a loving grandma if it wasn't for the malice in her eye. "I would treat you right, blutbad, better than your grimm."

"Listen lady," Hank barked out at her, "either you tell us what you want or you leave here in a body bag and we find another witch because as far I can tell, we won't be any farther from figuring it out with you dead!" 

She glared at him for a long moment before accepting it with a sneer.

"Long ago my sister took my eye and with it the power of my sight."

"You seem to be doing okay for someone with one eye," Hank told her.

"This eye sees your past," she said, bitterly. "People don't want to remember, they want to prepare. I want my power back."

"Fine," Monroe said, he kissed Nick's forehead before slipping off his coat and placing it under his head. "I'll get your eye from your sister and you're going to fix him."

"I have no use for your grimm," she said, sounding like a child that didn't get her way. "He's not the one I want."

Monroe rose up, and put a hand on Hank's wrist, bringing the gun down. "I need you to stay here with him. Don't take your-"

"No way, man! You can't go by yourself!" Hank glared.

"I'm not leaving him alone," Monroe said, eyes flashing red. "If one of us has to get an eyeball from witch, it should be me."

"When you put it like that…" Hank sighed. "Just be careful. She's going to have that sight power or whatever." 

Monroe nodded and turned back to the witch. "Well? Are you going to text me her address or what?"

***

There was only one way to face a witch that had the power to see you coming and your every move. Monroe went in with his canines out, and only the thought of Nick on the floor of that horrible shop.

He returned, bloodied and sore, holding two eyeballs in his large hand.

Hank raised a brow at him but Monroe only gave him an exhausted shrug. "I didn't know which one." The witch reached over to take them but he snatched his hand back. "Fix this!"

She pulled a small box from a pocket within the many layers she had on. She went to kneel by Nick, but was grabbed by the blutbad, claws sinking past all the layers and into her shoulder. He growled, barely keeping himself from inflicting further damage.

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest touching him," Hank said, finally putting his gun away and kneeling by his partner. "Just tell me what to do."

"Put one under his tongue," the witch told him, slamming the box into his waiting hand and quickly pulling away when she was released. 

A moment later Nick's eyes fluttered open, and Monroe threw the eyeballs in the candy dish as he dropped to his knees.

"Let me guess, you want five more minutes?" Monroe asked, laughing with relief as his eyes welled up with tears once again.

Nick was obviously still having trouble moving, his hand slowly working it's way up. Monroe tried to take it but the hand suddenly darted to his collar and yanked him down hard against the grimm's chest. A moment later a shot rang out less than a foot from his ear, followed by the sound of a body dropping and a loud, painful ringing in his ear.

"Idiot," he barely heard Nick rasp out. "Never turn your back on a witch."

***

Nick got home a little after midnight and found Monroe sitting in the dark, feet prompted on the coffee table.

"Hey, how's your head?" Nick asked softly as he slipped off his jacket and joined him on the couch.

"Head's feeling better. Ears are still ringing a little," Monroe admitted, holding his arm up for Nick to get closer. "How did everything go?"

"Lots of paperwork," Nick said, sliding into his lap and resting his head on a shoulder. "Roselee thinks the spell backfired when Marsha put her ex-boyfriend's ring in along with her necklace. He's fine by the way."

"Dude probably didn't even know she was a witch or how lucky he got. Witches are super vindictive."

Nick winced. "Yeah, so the sister accepted your apology and her eyes back," he shivered as he thought of their meeting, of her bloody, empty face. "You just have to stay out of her neck of the woods and in return she'll leave us alone. Apparently, she wasn't really fond of her sister."

"Yeah, that whole eyeball thing wasn't really subtle," Monroe said, burying a kiss in the dark hair. There was a moment of silence and he could feel Nick tense. "What is it?"

"I messed up, Monroe," Nick said, softly. He buried his face as far as he could into his boyfriend's neck.

"No. No, you didn't." Monroe sat up and tried to pull Nick back to get a look at him in the light coming through the windows but he wouldn't budge. "Nick, come on, look at me."

There was an unhappy grumble as he let himself be pulled back. 

"It wasn't your fault. She was very powerful."

Nick shook his head. "You told us to be careful, and I just thought you were being overly cautious and freaking out like always." The disappointed sigh hurt more than any angry growl ever could. "I want you to punish me."

"Oh." Monroe was not prepared for that. "I could send you to bed without dinner. You know, since I haven't made any."

"Monroe," Nick groaned, pulling away from him.

"Nick, you saved my life!" The image of the witch's body on the ground, still clutching the shears, had been unsettling. 

"She was only able to get that close because you were distracted with me."

He felt torn, upset that he wasn't taken seriously and feeling like Nick had suffered enough. "Nick," he started, but already sounded defeated. "Are you sure? You're not just feeling guilty, are you?"

Nick shrugged and looked away. "I mostly just feel like an asshole. You tried to warn us and I gave you a hard time. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know," Monroe sighed, kissing his temple. "Get up."

Nick darted off his lap and nervously reached for his zipper only to have Monroe bat his fingers away and do it himself. He tugged down the jeans and helped the grimm over his lap.

Nick barely got his hands on the floor before a hard swat rocked him forward. His protest was cut off by Monroe's hand coming down again, leaving a harsh sting where it fell.

There were no hesitations or questions about safe words this time, just blow after blow that seemed to be concentrating on one area. As relieved as he had been that he was being spared the usual torment to his thighs, the pain building right in the middle of his backside grew much quicker than it ever had in the past. 

Nick shifted, testing the hold Monroe had on him as more and more grunts and hisses escaped but the hand on his hip just brought him back every time. 

Nick's eyes began to burn as he tried not to cry but a harsh, loud slap that echoed through the room finally forced the tears out. A few more swats followed, though not as hard, not needing to be since the skin was sensitive and hot to the touch, even through the boxers.

After that, he was pulled back to his feet and his pants adjusted. He caught his breath, still shocked that it was over so fast, as he settled back in Monroe's lap. His behind burned but lacked the intensity he knew the blutbad was capable of causing.

"You half-assed that," Nick said, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"Don't complain, pup," Monroe grumbled. "You've been punished enough."

Nick's retort died on his lips. He bumped his forehead against the side of Monroe's face, ran his lips over a bearded cheek and sighed with relief.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Ahhh," Monroe gave an awkward, confused pause.

"For … you know," Nick shrugged, "the eyes."

"Oh, well. What are boyfriends for?" Monroe closed his eyes tightly. "I would have done anything to bring you home. I would have even given her what she had first asked for if there was no other way. I know you would have found a way to get me back."

Nick shook his head, hands balling in his sweater. "I can't lose you. You're the only thing that makes sense in my life."

Monroe's chuckle turned into a groan. "Kind of the opposite here, man. There was a time trying a new hummus recipe was as wild as my week got." He felt Nick stiffen and pulled him closer, his thumb running over day old stubble. "I could have lived a perfectly adequate life if I never met you but I did and I've never been happier. Overall. Maybe not today."

"How did I ever fall for your charm?"

"You know you only wanted me for my looks, Grimm."

Nick gave an amused snort, wishing they could stay just like that all night, exchanging banter and holding onto each other. "It's late. We should go to bed."

"Lead the way," Monroe said, and let himself be pulled to his feet. Once standing, he pulled Nick back against him, kissing him hard, with all the built up want and need and fear of the day. When he tried to pull back, the hands on the front of his sweater tightened. He rested his forehead against the shorter man. "I don't think I got much else in me tonight."

"Old man," Nick softly teased, as if he wasn't ready to pass out. 

"Pup," Monroe shot back.

Nick laughed into his shoulder, but when he spoke, it wasn't as light as he hoped it would be. "I'll settle for you holding me all night."

"I can do that," Monroe whispered against his hair, buried a kiss there and pulled him upstairs.

They had survived another day and maybe, just maybe, he could convince Nick to call in sick tomorrow. They could stay in bed until they were hungry and tired all over again since holding him all night was not going to be enough.

Because she had been right. He was full of hunger. It just happened to be for a certain grimm with bright eyes and a smart mouth, that smelled like he belonged to Monroe.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. I'm pretty sure I have a few more stories in me.


End file.
